Spring Fever
by Electric Splatter
Summary: "It's just spring fever," says Raven rolling her eyes. "Everyone's sick of being all cooped up and cold. So they want to find a nice warm body to celebrate with." That made sense to Clarke in a way. It was a natural biological instinct, a bit irritating but nothing she couldn't handle. Until she gets it. Bellarke


**AN: **Like most people I've become extremely obsessed with The 100. And Bellarke. Man I ship that a lot more than I intended to.

Timeline: The rescue at Mt. Weather happened. The Ark and 100 split off into two groups with intermingling between the two. Octavia went to live with the Grounders and there is peace.

I don't own The 100.

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><p><strong>Spring Fever<strong> is a term applied to several sets of physical and psychological symptoms associated with the arrival of spring. In general if refers to an increase in energy, vitality, and _particularly sexual appetite-_Wikipedia

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><p>Winter sucked.<p>

Clarke had read about the seasons on the Ark and never imagined how awful it could be. There was no food, the water froze, and it was just so damn cold. Not to mention that almost every single person in the camp had gotten sick. Even Bellamy had a fever for a few days (the longest three days of her life. "Clarke, I don't need to rest. I need to organize the hunting parties and the patrols and-" "I _will _sedate you if you try to leave again.") Plus there was the awkwardness of instigating staying warm by sharing body heat. Try telling that to a bunch of teenagers without them laughing in your face. Her stupid partner laughed along with them.

But it was _finally _over. She'd almost cried when she saw the river was thawing. The snow slowly melted and she could feel spring coming. She no longer spent every night miserable and freezing no matter how many blankets she had (…she'd never really been able to get behind the whole sharing body heat thing either).

But those days were over and for the first time in a long time Clarke felt like things were going smoothly for them. This third camp could be permanent. They had food, water, shelter, and no one was trying to kill them (yet). She tried to stay vigilant and on guard, but it was too easy to get wrapped up in the peace.

Clarke decided that she absolutely loved spring.

* * *

><p>Something was off. She just couldn't put her finger off it.<p>

There'd always been a lot of flirting and short relationships in the camp. You can't stick a hundred teenage criminals in one area and expect anything else. Clarke is just grateful that the Ark injected them all with contraceptives at age fifteen. The last thing she needs to deal with right now is a pregnancy.

But lately it was…different. Suddenly everyone was giggling and sneaking off into the woods together. It was weird. They were not subtle about it either. Clarke had been talking to a guy when a girl plopped down into his lap and whispered in his ear. The boy sprang up and left without even saying anything to her. She'd watched the pair walk away with her mouth hanging open.

And the main target of these assaults was Bellamy Blake.

Clarke's lost count of the number of times she's seen girls loitering around his tent or seeking him out to ask (stupid) questions. Suddenly a lot more people needed his _expert _advice (she actually stumbled when she heard one girl say that). Bellamy had stayed calm throughout it all. He played the cold and effective leader perfectly.

Clarke thought it was hilarious. She could tell underneath it all he was getting more and more frustrated with the lack of productivity. When one girl asked him to examine a scar she had on her ribs he actually covered his eyes with his hand and snapped to _see Clarke then_ before stomping off.

She's sitting by the fire with Raven one night when she can't take it anymore and snorts over one of the braver ones desperately failing at trying to make conversation with Bellamy. Clarke can't decide what's funnier, her disappointment or Bellamy's face.

Raven looks over her shoulder to see the two and shakes her head. "Idiots," she mutters and goes back to her dinner.

"I don't get it. It's just Bellamy," says Clarke. It's actually starting to be a problem. Sometimes she has important things to talk to him about and they kept interrupting.

"Been there, done that," Raven says flippantly with a wave of her hand. Clarke almost chokes on her food. Once she stops she gives Raven a questioning look.

"It was back in the dropship days. I was feeling lousy and decided Bellamy was the perfect pick me up."

Clarke accepts that was a shrug. Bellamy hadn't tried to hide his behavior back then. After the Mount Weather incident he'd changed. She's sure some of it had to do with Octavia leaving. He became harsher and more focused. Clarke supposed she had too. They did what they needed to in order to survive.

"It's just spring fever," says Raven rolling her eyes at one of the girls nearby legitimately swooning as Bellamy walked past her and took a seat on a log across from them. "Everyone's sick of being all cooped up and cold. So they want to find a nice warm body to celebrate with. Our tall, dark, broody, rebel leader is a prime target."

That made sense to Clarke in a way. It was a natural biological instinct, a bit irritating but nothing she couldn't handle.

"And he's pretty fantastic in bed," says Raven lowly, giving Bellamy a look that was the farthest thing from innocent. This time Clarke does choke on her food.

* * *

><p>Clarke doesn't even think about it again until two weeks later. She's in the med bay, or what passes as the med bay for now, fixing a sprained ankle (the fourth this month. She's about ready to yank all of the roots surrounding the camp out herself) when Bellamy comes in and hops up on the other cot with a loud thud. His hair is dripping and his clothes are sticking to him. He's watching her with a half smirk and there's mischief there.<p>

"I'm working," she says. Even though she knows that's not going to make him leave. It never does. She sighs and finishes wrapping Darby's ankle and knotting it securely. "Why are you all wet?

"The river's finally completely thawed," he says. She knows him well enough to hear the excitement in his steady voice. She rolls her eyes and gives Darby the go ahead to leave. He takes off without another word.

"So you decided to jump in it? It's still freezing. Hypothermia is a real threat," the doctor in her can't help but say. He scoffs and leans closer so their faces are almost touching.

"Come on, Princess," he says teasingly with raised eyebrows. She could count all his freckles with how close he is. His lips lift in a sort of half smile. "Live a little."

And something is wrong with her because instead of rolling her eyes and saying something intelligent back like she usually would her stomach twists and she has trouble swallowing. Her eyes lock on his brown ones, and she had never noticed the lighter shades of brown in them before. Her face feels warm and she's getting this weird tingly feeling in her hands. He opens his mouth to say something and-

"Bellamy?" calls Jasper from the entrance to the med bay. "Monroe said she had something she wants you to take a look at." He notices how close they are and his eyes widen.

Bellamy is up and moving before he can comment. He goes back to his normal self and shows no signs of what just happened. "Where is she?" The authority is back in his voice. Jasper looks confused for half a second before snapping out of it.

"Out west. I can take you there," he says still slightly hesitating. He glances back at Clarke and she looks back keeping her expression neutral.

"Then let's go," says Bellamy brushing past him outside. Jasper makes a noise and scrambles to catch up with him.

Clarke stares at the entrance in shock. Her face is still way too hot. _What the hell just happened?_

* * *

><p>She passes it off as a momentary loss of sanity and ignores it.<p>

Two days later she's taking inventory in the pantry early in the morning when Bellamy walks in holding spears.

"Fishing?" he says offering her one of them. It's been months since they've had fish. She can't help but get excited before looking at all the food she hasn't sorted.

"I should really finish this," says Clarke frowning. He rolls his eyes.

"You can do it later," he says shoving one of the spears into her hand anyway. "Let's go."

Normally she'd argue more, but for once she just follows him out. He shoots her a smile over his shoulder when she doesn't protest at all.

They meet up with the rest of the group and head towards the river. It's actually hot out today. Clarke can feel herself starting to sweat as she misses another fish by her right foot. She's only caught three so far. It's a sad pile next to the others. She can feel Bellamy silently taunting her with his pile of nine next to hers.

Someone starts a fire and starts cooking a couple for the group. They've been out here for hours and everyone is getting hungry. She looks over at Bellamy to ask him something but the words never come out.

He's standing there shirtless in the sunlight with sweat running down his chest slowly. He stretches his arms over his head slowly (arms that she'd never noticed were _that _muscular) and drops his spear on the ground and moves towards the fire. The rest of the guys have stripped too. She isn't having trouble not staring at them though. He comes back towards her and belatedly she notices that he's got two cooked fish on sticks in his hands.

"Hungry?" asks Bellamy extending one towards her. But she's not looking at the fish. She's looking at all of tan muscle that's in front of her and she's got a dry feeling in her throat.

_Oh is she **ever,** _she says in her head darkly.

She snaps out of it so quickly she almost knocks the stick out of his hands. He's fast though and manages to catch it. He looks at her with a strange expression.

"Sorry. I slipped on a rock," she lies easily and takes the stick from him, feeling way too warm when her hand brushes against his. "Thanks."

He lets it go but she can feel his eyes watching her the rest of the day.

She stabs her next fish a little more violently than she needs to.

She's got fucking spring fever.

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><p>It's not like Clarke hadn't noticed that Bellamy was - well, that he wasn't - look, she has eyes, okay?<p>

And they were…it wasn't just - it was way more than – yup, she's just going to stop that sentence right now.

* * *

><p>It's not the sex part. She's not a virgin. She knows how these things go. Clarke has those kinds of feelings just like everyone else.<p>

But it's _Bellamy._

He's not just her partner. They're like a pair of kidneys (shut up, she's serious). She'd survive if he was gone, but her whole life would be harder trying to do everything on her own. And she'd probably never find another person to match exactly like he did.

The point is that he's not some guy that she can lose to a stupid thing like having the urge to lick his face (such a nice face).

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><p>Clarke keeps it under control. She does her job and helps run the camp exactly like she did before.<p>

In fact she's busier than ever. Spring also makes people reckless it seems. She has more patients than ever before. It seems like there's a constant line of people coming into the med bay.

It's all going well (if by well you mean swooning over the dumbass when he brings her some plants. God, she hates herself) until one day she slips up.

They're working on building some more permanent structures. The construction is slow and hard work. She's walking by one of the production sites to get some water for a patient when she gets distracted.

She's only ever really distracted by one thing these days.

Bellamy is part of the team working on the building today. She watches as he helps lift a large piece of wood into place. He's sweaty and dirty and _she should not find that attractive._

"It's coming along nicely," says a voice beside her and she snaps out of her daydream (she refuses to call it a …fantasy). Raven is standing beside her watching the workers too. Her motives are probably a lot less impure.

"It really is," agrees Clarke. Just because she's got a tiny personal issue doesn't mean she's not proud of all the progress the camp had been making lately. It makes her think of words like safe and home.

They continue to watch the builders and Clarke thinks about how heavy the stuff must be and how strong Bellamy's arms must be to lift it and how those arms would feel wrapped around her with one gripping the back of her head while the other pressed her into him so that there was no space between them only skin on skin and-

She makes this little noise in the back of her throat and her whole world stops. Because that was definitely out loud. And she knows that her face is red and her heart is racing.

Raven hears her and makes a face and then follows her eyes to what she was looking at. Then her eyes go wide. A smirk slowly starts to form on her face while her eyebrows go up. This so isn't going to end well for Clarke.

"Looks like the princess has caught spring fever," she says in a singsong voice. Clarke smacks her arm and shushes her.

"It's not – I don't – _You can't tell anyone,"_ she hisses desperately. Raven's smile just gets wider.

"So," she draws out the word and winks at her. "Bellamy Blake?"

"Shut up," mutters Clarke darkly.

"How long has that been going on?" asks Raven looking way too excited about the whole thing.

"_Nothing_ is going on," says Clarke hotly. "And could you please lower your voice?"

"Why not? You're hot. He's hot," she says gesturing to him and then her as if there were no flaws to this logic.

"Raven! We have to work together," says Clarke exasperatedly. "You wouldn't sleep with Wick."

"I've been sleeping with Wick for months," says Raven plainly.

"Oh my god. What?"

* * *

><p>Spring sucked.<p>

Seriously, it wasn't that warm. There was no need to walk around without a shirt on so often. It actually left you more exposed to injuries and sunburns. She'd mentioned this to Raven (who had somehow become the keeper of her inner turmoil) and she laughed in her face.

It comes in phases. Some days she'll be completely normal when they talk about plans for the camp and the next she'll be talking to him and all she sees is visions of her pulling him into her tent and having her way with him. Thankfully he's never commented on her odd behavior. That'll be the day she completely loses her dignity (what little she has left).

Her latest problem is his mouth. They'll be talking and she'll get lost in the way his lips form the words. His mouth is just there and she can't stop staring at it. His lips are a different color than most and always slightly chapped. Clarke thinks about how they would feel scraping against hers, moving down her throat, going lower and lower to _other _places-

That thought was not going_ anywhere_ productive.

She's so screwed.

* * *

><p>The actual worst day of her life is when <em>Murphy <em>of all people calls her out on it. She can't even look him in the eyes anymore. And he keeps giving her these knowing looks and raised eyebrows. He's even worse than Raven (and that is saying something).

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><p>The world they live in is still dangerous. Clarke is reminded of this the day a scouting party returns running and frantically calling her name. She rushes through the forming crowd with her heart pounding. Her hands are shaking as she scans them and he's not with them. But then Bellamy pushes his way to the front with a limp form in his arms. The boy is moaning and his breathing is shaky.<p>

She does not feel relief. Instead she goes into doctor mode. "What happened?" There's a lot of blood. The kid's full of it and so is Bellamy. She motions to him to keep walking and they move quickly towards the med bay.

"Exiled Grounder. Found herself a gun somewhere," says Miller on her right. She barely hears him as thoughts race through her head. She's less experienced with gunshot wounds. If it hit a vital area there's not much she can do. But she doesn't let it show on her face.

"Lay him down. Now," orders Clarke as they enter the med bay. Her mind is racing through the steps of what to do. She moves to grab her knife and what moonshine she has. It isn't enough for an injury of this scale. "Miller, find Monty and get me some more moonshine. I need it to clean the wound after I remove the bullet. Bellamy, I'm going to need you to hold him down."

She turns around to see Miller gone and Bellamy already stripping off the boy's shirt. Leo, that's his name. The bullet hit him in the upper left chest. It might be far enough to the side to avoid a serious problem. Clarke can tell he's lost a lot of blood though. He's pale and his skin is burning up.

"Okay, Leo," says Clarke steadily. "I'm going to need you to try to hold still." God, she wishes he were unconscious. But if he passed out from blood loss now he might not wake up. She grits her teeth and looks at Bellamy. He nods and she douses her knife in moonshine. Then without warning she carefully inserts it into the wound at an angle.

Leo's screams echo throughout the room. Bellamy grunts but manages to hold him down. He's a lot smaller than most of them, which is a blessing. She usually needs at least two people to hold patients down for things like this. His voice gets louder as she digs for the bullet. Bellamy winces and she shoots him a dark look. She can't save him if he jerks and she hits a lung.

It's not too deep. Clarke cuts the tissue it's lodged in and Leo wails. She grabs her makeshift tweezers from the table next to them and pulls it out. Thankfully it's still in one piece. The kid's lucky.

Miller returns with the moonshine and Monty comes in with him. She grabs it from him and flushes out the wound heavily. She barely notices Miller helping Bellamy restrain Leo. Monty hands her strips of Leos' shirt and she dunks that in the moonshine too before using it to apply pressure to the wound.

"You're going to be fine," says Clarke warmly, raising her voice over Leo's whimpers. "The bullet didn't hit anything important and wasn't too deep. The only thing we have to worry about is infection. So you're going to need to come see me twice a day for the next couple weeks."

Leo nods weakly and Miller and Bellamy release their hold on him. Bellamy says something to Miller lowly and he walks out. Monty puts his hand on top of hers and nudges her.

"I can do this," he says. "You need to treat Bellamy." She tenses at that and he moves her out of the way. She sees Bellamy shoot Monty a dirty look.

"You're hurt?" demands Clarke angrily. She had thought all the blood was Leo's before, but now she noticed that some of it was coming from him. If looks could kill the one she was giving him would have.

"Relax, Princess," says Bellamy slowly, trying to calm her down. He lifts up his shirt to reveal his own bullet hole on his left hip. "It isn't life threatening. I got nicked in the side charging the Grounder after she shot Leo. You know he needed to be treated first. I just didn't want you to overreact."

Out of the corner of her eye she see's Monty wince. Clarke slowly breathes in and out once. "Overreact?" she asks with no emotion walking over to him with fire in her eyes.

She's told later that the ensuing argument could be heard from every part of the camp.

"OVERREACT? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO REACT TO YOU BEING SHOT? YOU-"

"THERE WAS A KID WHO WAS DYING! THERE WERE PRIORITIES-"

This goes on for some time. Monty looks like he would rather be any other place in the entire world.

Later they're both silent as she patches him up. He flinches a little as she finishes the stitches and dabs it with moonshine. The wound actually hadn't been as serious as she thought (she will never admit this).

"I know you hate the idea of people getting special treatment," starts Clarke softly, sick of fighting, "But you come first. Always."

"That's bullshit," he says. But he says it without any heat behind it. Instead he just slumps down against the wall behind him. She silently sits next to him.

"I don't deserve to live more than anyone else. I probably deserve it less actually," says Bellamy looking straight ahead. She hates when he gets like this (he probably hates when she does too). They're too alike. Guilt is a constant chain they carry around with them.

"I don't want people to treat me differently because I'm a leader," he whispers. His voice is a combination of anger and exhaustion.

"The Chancellor could be bleeding out on a table, and I would still save you," says Clarke after a while. She notices him tense next to her.

"The Chancellor is your mother," he points out. He tries to keep his face impassive. His eyes lock on hers and his are full of questions.

"I know." She doesn't look away. She knows exactly what she's saying. The air is tight and she should feel wrong saying this, but she doesn't. She needs him a way she will never need anybody else.

"We're in this together, right?" she asks him with a sad smile. He doesn't smile back.

"I'd pick you over anyone else," he says carefully putting his hand over hers. His voice is heavy with emotion.

"You don't have to-" she tries to protest because she knows him. Knows how much his sister means to him.

"Anyone else," he repeats with no room for argument. He gives her a look that she doesn't think she'll ever forget. For some stupid reason her eyes feel watery.

In some ways they are more than family (and when did that happen?).

Usually she pictures them coming together as two forces clashing and fighting. For the first time she sees it a different way. Gentle, with his fingers interlocked with hers. Slow and steady while he keeps asking with his eyes if she's sure she wants this, her reassuring him with a soft smile.

She doesn't even have the urge to leave like she always does when her mind wanders like this. Instead she just lays her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes. His fingers are still wrapped around hers.

* * *

><p>One night she gets drunk because she has literally had patients from the time she woke up until the time she left. She's exhausted and it's still fucking spring and she just wants to have fun.<p>

Clarke is half leaning against a table with some sort of game involving cups and tossing a pinecone into them and is pleasantly fuzzy. She finishes off her drink and makes an effort to move to the fire, stumbling a little bit.

A hand catches her on her arm. "You're pretty clumsy for a princess," says Bellamy mockingly (because who else would it be?). He smiles at her and she laughs. His eyes are too clear to be drinking (and he calls her uptight. They still have lighter shades of brown in them).

"My hero," she drawls placing a hand over her heart. His smile grows and she feels light, like she hasn't felt around him in so long. She misses this.

"Take it easy," he advises taking his hand off her arm (funny, she hadn't even noticed it was still there). He walks away and her lightness dims a little.

Later on her and Raven are the only ones still up. They're slumped against a log by the dying fire, looking up at the stars. Mostly they sit there in silence, a good silence.

"It'd be okay, you know. If it wasn't just spring fever," says Raven softly. She doesn't look at Clarke. Clarke wishes she understood how that makes her feel. It's a jumbled mess she doesn't want to get into tonight.

"Maybe it would be," she says just as quietly. She shifts so she's in a more comfortable position. Neither of them have any intentions of going back to their tents.

"Sometimes I think you're a little in love with him," says Raven, her voice heavy with sleep.

"He's my kidney," mumbles Clarke partially into the ground. She closes her eyes and falls asleep to the sounds of the fire and Raven breathing.

* * *

><p>It happens less frequently after that night for some reason. Sure, she still wants to lick his face sometimes (such a <em>nice <em>face), but most of the time she keeps her cool now. They fall back into a familiar pattern of decisions and discussions and the occasional argument (okay, more than occasional).

(In fact, Clarke has noticed _his_ eyes lingering on her more than they need to. Not that that means anything. At all. Raven must never notice. _Or Murphy._)

One day she's leaving camp to go to river when he calls her name and catches up to her. She rolls her eyes. She's allowed to leave camp by herself. An argument is on the tip of her tongue.

"Clarke," says Bellamy seriously and she immediately sobers up. He only ever really says her name like that when there's a problem. "…Are you doing alright?"

No. No no no no. He's noticed. She is so not prepared for this. "I'm fine," she says trying to sound normal.

"It's just that…" he trails off scratching the back of his neck and not making eye contact. She's never seen him look this uncomfortable before (she sure hasn't been either). "I've noticed a lot of the guys hanging around the med bay more than usual lately. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Clarke thinks back over the last couple weeks and is stunned that he's right. And some of the injuries they had were outright ridiculous. She'd been so distracted that she hadn't noticed.

"Really, I'm fine," she says with a smile. "It's nothing I can't handle."

"If any of them bother, you let me know. Okay?" says Bellamy losing the tension from before. He gives her shoulder a quick squeeze. "I'm going to head back to camp. Be careful out here on your own."

Clarke stays behind looking where his hand had just been. He'd touched her arm and she'd felt…nothing. Well, actually it was nice and friendly. But there had been nothing else there. She didn't heat up and her pulse didn't skyrocket. She looks around her and all she sees is green and blue sky and all she feels is heat. It all makes sense.

_Summer_.

It had just been a temporary thing. Spring fever. Nothing was going on here. She did not have a Bellamy Blake fetish. Clarke smiled with relief and watched him walk away finally at peace.

It had been like a virus. She just had to go through it and now she was immune.

He was just her platonic co-leader. He ran his fingers through his hair as he walked towards camp. He had a habit of doing that. His hands were big, calloused. The kind of hands that would feel great gripping onto her hips as he shoved her up against a tree and-

_It's terminal, _thought Clarke in horror.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Ahhhhhhh. Tell me what you thought!

This was supposed to be a couple thousand words. WHY CAN'T I WRITE ANYTHING SHORT?

This was a blast and a half to write.


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